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Tiya

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

2 poems·Since October 2014
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School Fool

October 3, 2014

 

                i am not wise, i know,

for caring, and keeping my anxiety

                locked tightly, aching box.

but where’s the escape against vengeful stares

                if i did not hide?

then, in the school’s crowded, sweating, mixed-up halls

gossiping tongues and sneering mouths do dump acid,

                it sizzles though my skin, into my veins.

poison seizes, squeezes my heart as i grasp my chest.

hands begin to shake and sweat gathers.

                as i pass the two people responsible for my sudden

popular rise in public-enemy stature.

 

                but when i stayed silent,

no one, in petty compassion,

                can hear and ease my pain,

so by troubling family, peace canceled out

fear, mute same as insane.

to forgive and unleash freedom of speech

releases the suffocating pressure off my suppressed heart;

                splatter of emotion preaches,

for all my handicaps are being repaired.

and I, who am the school fool, have a Queenly air.

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